


Head Full of Ghosts

by furyofthetimelords



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Check Please Big Bang, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8441881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furyofthetimelords/pseuds/furyofthetimelords
Summary: Jack knows he's moving into a haunted house, only problem is, the ghost doesn't seem to believe he's dead.(or an au where Jack hunts ghosts and Bitty's the one haunting his apartment)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I'm so excited to post this fic. I wrote most of the initial draft in like, three days because I'd almost forgotten the challenge existed, then with the help of the lovely [victorianotvicky](http://victorianotvicky.tumblr.com/) on tumblr who did some solid beta work, this fic turned into the thing that it is today. 
> 
> also very loosely inspired by the movie 'just like heaven', although I let that whole concept drift pretty far.
> 
> Thanks to the checkpleasebigbang people too for making this fic thing be a thing. It was a hell of a lot of fun. 
> 
> Art for this fic was done by epickegster

WELCOME TO GHOST SEEKERS

_Ghost Seekers is a community for people serious about the supernatural. Here, you’re welcomed to discuss all things ghost - sightings you’ve had, those of a friend, or anyone else you might know._

_Mod Note: This is for serious sightings only._

KNOWN GHOSTS IN PROVIDENCE (3,568 replies) by Hollow_Hedge (Mod)

Re: Known Ghosts in Providence

Kelley_3554

I think I’m being haunted? I mean there’s all the signs they tell you to look out for - cold spots, weird voices, and once, I think I saw a figure. But it was only for a moment. I ran away pretty fast after that and I’ve been staying at my sister’s place. I know that sounds dramatic, but I couldn’t live there anymore. Things were too weird. Besides, I’ve seen the horror movies and I’m not taking any chances -it would only get worse from here. I’ve terminated the lease, even though I was only there for a week, which the landlord was strangely relaxed about. He told me it was “all fine, and for the main plot, y’know?”. I don’t know what he meant either.

But that’s not the weirdest thing. As far as I can tell, nobody’s died around here recently, so I can’t think of who or what it might be. So, to any ghost hunters out there, you might want to look into this one? It could be something.

//

The first time Jack sees the ghost, he’s unpacking the kitchen boxes.

“What are you doing in here?” a voice asks and Jack automatically reaches for his iron knife, thanks to years of hunting experience. Except the knife isn’t where it should be, and he suddenly recalls leaving it in a box in the living room.

He’d come to Providence expecting a ghost inside his apartment, which only makes his mistake worse. Though he tries to reassure himself with the fact that this ghost doesn’t seem to be malevolent, by all accounts. But what makes this case interesting is that there shouldn’t have been anyone haunting the home at all - no recent deaths in the area, let alone the apartment complex. Ghosts usually only appeared after particularly violent deaths and sometimes because of unfinished business, not in mundane, boring apartments like this one.

“Hey! I’m talking to you,” the voice repeats, cutting through Jack’s train of thought. The accent is strong and southern, definitely a man’s voice. Jack absently wonders if he can make the spirit go away by ignoring it, so he goes back to calmly unpacking his plates.

“You can’t just do this! Where’s my stuff?” the voice says, closer this time. Jack feels a cold sensation on his forearm. He tries to ignore it, but the ghost’s rasp is insistent.

Jack finally looks up. Standing there is the faint outline of a young man - he’s short, and looks quite young, which throws Jack off for a minute. Is he just talking to a kid?

“You - you’re not old,” Jack says, surprised.

“I’m twenty four!” the ghost says indignantly. Jack can’t quite tell, but he thinks the ghost is frowning at him. “And this is my house!”

“It’s not,” Jack says. “I live here now.”

“You can’t just take over. That’s illegal,” the ghosts says. He looks mad. Jack starts to wonder if things are going to start breaking soon - but the ghost is a pale outline of a human being, so it’s unlikely it’s powerful enough to do any real damage. It’s only when a ghost is almost entirely solid that he should worry.

“I’m paying rent,” Jack says.

The ghost huffs. “So am I!” he says. Then, his eyes widen. “This is a scam, isn’t it? Lord, I knew this apartment was too good to be true.”

“It’s not a scam,” Jack says.

“Well, I was here first, so you’re going to have to leave. I’m sorry, but I can’t share a house with a stranger.”

Jack frowns, realising the ghost definitely isn’t aware of it’s current state. “You know I’m not the first person to live here since you died.”

“ _What?_ ” the ghost shrieks in a pitch so sharp that makes Jack’s ears hurt. “Is this is a joke? Or a threat?”

Jack shakes his head. “A statement of fact. You’re dead, and not supposed to be here.”

“I could call the cops on you. Or is there someone else I should call?” the ghost asks, eyeing Jack warily.

“You can’t do that.”

“So you are threatening me!” the ghost cries out. “Are you going to kill me or something?”

“You’re...” Jack trails off, suddenly wishing he was  better with spirits, like Parse was. Jack was never the smooth talker and he suddenly, very viscerally, misses his old friend.

“This is some kind of joke, right? You’re just trying to distract me from what’s clearly a crime. Well, mister, it isn’t working.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Jack says. “You’re dead, and you’re clearly sticking around, when you don’t need to be. Just follow the light.”

The ghost squints at him. “What light? The Sun?”

“You don’t see it?” Jack says.

“No?” the ghost says. “Do you see it?”

“Of course not. I’m not dead.”

“Well, I can’t see it, so I’m definitely not dead either,” the ghost says.

“You’re still a ghost,” Jack insists.

“Now you’re just talking crazy,” the ghost says. “I’m not a ghost.”

“You definitely are - I can barely even see you now,” Jack says, suddenly realising the ghost has gotten slightly less translucent throughout their conversation. It’s a pretty unusual thing for a ghost - especially one so faded. They don’t just suddenly get more powerful.

“Or you might just need glasses,” the ghost says, and then sighs. “Lord. I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with the guy who’s trying to rob me.”

“I’m not trying to rob you. I’m moving in,” Jack says.

“You’ve clearly already taken my stuff.”

“I didn’t!” Jack argues, before he realises how ridiculous this whole conversation is. He shouldn’t be _talking_ to this ghost. “You might not have even lived here.”

The ghost gives him a look. “I think I’d know my own home.”

“The last person who lived here was definitely not you,” Jack says. He’d never actually met the former resident of the apartment, only spoken to her a few times via an online ghost “hunting” forum.

“Well, you’re lying because I was the last person who lived here.”

Jack thinks for a moment. “I can prove it.”

“How?”

“If you’re not really dead, then tell me your name,” Jack says. Most ghosts can’t remember their lives before, so he figures this might scare the ghost into disappearing for a while.

“Bitty,” the ghost says, but then frowns a little, like that’s not quite right.

“See? You can’t remember, can you?”

“No. That’s my name,” the ghost insists. “My name is Bitty.”

Jack looks sceptical. There’s no way this guy - ghost, he reminds himself - is actually called   _Bitty_. “That’s not a name.”

“How would you know? You’re just a thief.”

“I’m not a thief, besides, that hardly makes me exempt from having an education.”

The ghost - Bitty - glares at him. “You need to leave. If you do, I won’t call the cops.”

“You can’t call anyone,” Jack says.

Bitty glances over at the landline on the wall behind Jack. Jack sees the second Bitty’s about to go for it, and barely manages to get out of the way before Bitty can pass right through him; that’s never a pleasant experience. So instead of hitting Jack, the ghost falls through the wall and sticks out halfway, disembodied legs floating in the air through the kitchen counters.

Jack watches on as Bitty jerks back suddenly and although he can’t see the ghost’s face that well, Bitty looks scared.

“Okay. What in the deep fried hell was that?” Bitty asks, his voice sounding strained.

“You’re a ghost,” Jack says plainly. “You can’t just touch things.”

“Then how am I standing here now? And I could touch you,” Bitty says.

Jack shakes his head. “You barely managed to touch my arm. That takes a lot of energy. Besides, you can’t just fall through the floor.”

Bitty gives him a look. “Stop lying.”

“I’m not lying. It’s the truth.”

“Well, if I was dead, then how could I be here now? Wouldn’t I remember, y’know, _dying_?”

“Not everyone does. Which is why you probably thought you were alive,” Jack explains. “It happens to a lot of ghosts.”

“This is too weird,” Bitty says. “You can’t just come into my home and tell me I’m _dead_.”

“But you are,” Jack replies, which he realises might not have been the best thing to say. He wishes someone else was here to say things in a way Bitty might understand, because clearly Jack isn’t getting through. “You passed right through the counter.”

“I’m dreaming. That’s it. I’m just. Dreaming,” Bitty says, shaking his head. “I need to just wake up, and everything will be fine.”

“You’re not dreaming.”

Bitty narrows his eyes. “That’s something a dream would say.”

“Look,” Jack says. “I don’t know how to prove it to you, but you’re not alive anymore. And this is my home, so I’d appreciate it if you left. Moved on. Whatever.”

Bitty crosses his arms. “I’m not going anywhere. I live here.”

“You’re dead. You don’t live anywhere,” Jack says.

“I do too. I live here. In,” Bitty says, but cuts himself off. “In. Um. Give me a minute.”

“Providence,” Jack supplies.

“I - oh. That’s what I was going to say,” Bitty retorts, but he seems a little surprised.

“You’re a ghost. You can’t remember these things.”

“I -” Bitty says, but then suddenly cuts off and fades away altogether, cutting off the conversation.

Jack stares at the space where Bitty was. He wonders if there might be a way to track down Bitty’s family - if it really is the ghost’s name, then maybe he’ll be able to work out who it is. That is, if Bitty isn’t lying about living here before.

Jack sighs in frustration - he thought this would be easy - a quick, easy job to make him forget about the past and get himself back into ghost hunting. He should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that easy.

//

Once the kitchen is unpacked and he’s calmed down some, Jack decides to call Shitty - his best friend always knows what to say, and Jack could use the advice. He’s not quite desperate enough to call his father about it yet.

Shitty is perhaps one of the stranger ghost hunters he knows - Jack met him at a frat party when he’d been looking for a ghost at Samwell University (apparently one of the frat houses had a couple of ghosts in there somewhere). Shitty had been there to, quote “study the ways of the frat bro, and do a motherfucking kegstand.” Jack had initially dismissed the guy, but it turned out Shitty was also into ghosts. He hadn’t known about the frat ghosts before, but had been quick to jump on it when he realised why Jack was there.

Shitty picks up on the first ring. “Yo, Zimmermann, what do I owe the pleasure of your voice to?”

“I have a ghost problem,” Jack says. “More like, a problem ghost.”

“Oh, that house? How’s that going?” Shitty asks.

“The ghost thinks he still lives here,” Jack says.

“Past owner?”

“I’ve already ruled that out,” Jack says. “The last person who lived here is definitely alive. And nobody’s died around here recently.”

“Maybe it’s an older ghost?” Shitty says.

“I don’t think so. He even tried to call the cops,” Jack says.

“Fuck,” Shitty curses. “Did you get anything else from him?”

“He says his name is Bitty,” Jack says. “And he’s southern.”

Shitty laughs. “I like this ghost already. Man, why do you get all the good ones, Zimmermann?”

Jack just sighs. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits.

“Well, you’re gonna solve the shit out of this one, that’s what you’re going to do. And you have a name already - that’s something.”

“I guess so,” Jack says. “But it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“You’ll get there, bro. You want me and Lardo to come down?”

“I can handle this myself.”

“But you don’t have to, bro. Besides, maybe I want to meet this ghost myself.”

Jack rolls his eyes, even though he knows Shitty can’t see the gesture. “Are you able to come down, though?”

“Cambridge is boring. There’s nothing out here,” Shitty complains. “I haven’t seen any action in _months._ ”

“You could always move.”

Shitty just grumbles.

“You know it’s an option,” Jack points out.

“So, what would a southern guy be doing all the way out in Providence?” Shitty asks.

“Moved?” Jack replies.

“Fuck, don’t get smart with me Zimmermann.”

Jack laughs. “Sure.”

“Right. I gotta go,” Shitty says. “Lards needs to be picked up from her coven meeting.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Jack says. “Bye.”

“I’ll speak to you later, bro,” Shitty says and hangs up.

//

The next week is incredibly tense. Jack is hyper-vigilant of every sound in the apartment, cataloguing everything he hears and working out if it might be ghost related - a few things stand out. Namely, some sort of pop song Jack things he should probably know, and the sound of an oven timer buzzing in the middle of the night. It makes him start to understand exactly why the previous tenant had moved out.

But apart from the odd sound, there’s no sign of Bitty’s ghost. Foolishly, Jack starts to relax - maybe the ghost had moved on and what he was hearing was a little residual spirit activity. He’s seen it before - ghosts just passing through temporarily before they finally move on, where to, Jack isn’t sure, but it’s a mystery he’s pretty content leaving undiscovered these days.

Of course, all of that changes on the fourth day when he burns his breakfast. In his defence, the stove isn’t the like one he used to use and he overestimates how much heat he needs and he’d only looked away for a _second_. By some small miracle, the smoke alarm doesn’t go off, but there’s a different kind of shrieking in his ear.

“ _What did you do_?” an all-too-familiar southern voice yells.

Jack jumps at the sound of the voice, and drops his frying pan to the floor, burnt egg bits spilling everywhere. He turns to see Bitty standing in the kitchen - and he’s a little less transparent and blurry than before.

Bitty’s eyes narrow. “You’re still here?”

“I told you, I live here.”

“Well, too bad. This was my place first,” Bitty says. “So move away from the stove.”

Jack holds up his hands. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You burned those eggs. Lord, you’re lucky you didn’t set off the smoke alarm.”

“That was an accident,” Jack replies, defensive. He might not be a particularly good cook, but he can manage to cook himself eggs. Well, usually.

“Step aside,” Bitty says and motions for Jack to move away.

“You can’t touch that,” Jack blurts out.

Bitty gives him a look. “Don’t start that again. I’ve had enough of your nonsense today.”

“You’ve been gone for a week now,” Jack says with a frown. Normally, spirits are a lot more aware of the time that’s passed. But once again, Bitty is a special case.

 _Of course_ , Jack thinks, annoyed.

Bitty blinks, and then frowns. “No. It’s only been an hour.”

Jack shakes his head. “It’s a week. You just vanished, and I thought you might’ve been gone for good.”

“I live here. Why would I leave?”

“You really can’t remember this past week?” Jack asks. “I thought you might appear again, but all I’ve heard is the oven timer and some pop song.”

“It - I never left!” Bitty says. “Can you stop this? It wasn’t funny the first time.”

“I’m trying to help you move on,” Jack says. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“ _You_ shouldn’t be here,” Bitty argues. “And if I was a ghost, you’re definitely not doing a good job of getting rid of me.”

Jack shakes his head. “I’m not very good at this,” he says apologetically.

“What? Breaking into other people’s homes and cooking their food?”

“No. Helping spirits move on,” Jack explains.

“You’ve done this before?” Bitty says with a frown.

Jack shakes his head. “Not like this.”

Bitty sighs. “Figures. But still, I really don’t see why I should believe any of this.”

“I can prove you’re dead.”

“By all means, show me,” Bitty says, clearly unconvinced.

“You can’t really remember your own name, or even where you live. And if you try to pick up that phone, your hand is going to slip right through again,” Jack says.

“This could still be a dream.”

Jack then goes up to the cupboard and gets out his bag of salt. “If you’re really not a ghost, then you’ll be able to walk past this line of salt,” he says and pours one between him and Bitty.

“This is ridiculous,” Bitty says, and makes a move to step forward, but as soon as he tries to move past the salt barrier, he’s pushed backwards.

Bitty tries again, but the force of it knocks him over.

Bitty pales. “No - I. This isn’t real,” he says, scrambling up and away from the salt line. Suddenly, all the plates he’d left out on the counter start to float in the air. One of them narrowly misses hitting Jack’s face.

Jack ducks, trying to avoid the barrage, but before he can say anything, the plates crash to the ground and Bitty’s gone.

//

“I’m sorry,” Bitty says, suddenly materialising in front of Jack a few days later just as Jack is about to start watching the Hockey game he’d recorded earlier. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s, um, a lot to take in.”

Jack shakes his head. “I understand. But you’re not the worst spirit I’ve had to deal with.”

“Spirit. Wow. I’m dead,” Bitty says a little hysterically. “It doesn’t feel real. I mean, shouldn’t there be something, um, more?”

Jack shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. This isn’t heaven, or hell, if that’s what you’re about to ask.”

Bitty shuts his mouth.

“Can you tell me anything else about yourself?” Jack asks. “I could help you move on.”

Bitty shakes his head. “I - I feel like it’s all there, but it’s just out of reach.”

“You’ll get there.”

“But what if I don’t want to, um, move on yet?” Bitty asks. “I mean, can’t we take this slow?”

Jack shakes his head. “You can put it off, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Why not?” Bitty asks curiously.

“Spirits aren’t supposed to stay here too long after death,” Jack says. “It’s not good for them, uh, you.”

“Then why am I still here?”

Jack just shrugs. “Sometimes spirits get stuck, usually because of a violent death, but there haven’t been any in the area lately. Sometimes it’s just plain unfinished business, but that business has to be pretty strong.”

“What would I have?”

“Well, you’re young, so it could be a lot of things. We won’t know more until we know more about you as a person.”

Bitty sighs. “I can’t remember anything. It’s all blank.”

“Well, you said your name is Bitty, and you’re 24. Southern too,” Jack says. “That’s not nothing.”

“I might not even know where I live! I mean, I still _think_ this is my home, but it might not - oh my god,” Bitty says, cutting himself off. “Does my mama know? How am I supposed to tell her I’m dead?”

He looks like he’s about to cry and Jack tries to think of something comforting to say, so he resorts to facts.

“She probably already knows. Do you know what year it is?” he says. Maybe Bitty really is lost in time.

“2016?” Bitty says, and Jack’s stomach sinks. Bitty’s right.

“That’s the year,” Jack says.

Bitty starts to cry - not loudly, but Bitty sinks in on himself and buries his face in his hands.

“Lord, I’m sorry,” Bitty says after a long moment. “I don’t think I’m the crying type. Well, I might be. But it’s just. I don’t know why that bothered me so much.”

“Maybe you were close with her?” Jack suggests, thinking of his relationship with his own parents. Despite their strained history, he’s pretty close with them now. “And you’re only just starting to accept your death.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not dead.”

“I’ve met a lot of dead people.”

“That’s um, different,” Bitty says.

“It’s a Zimmermann family tradition,” Jack says with a shrug - his entire family have had a strong history of hunting ghosts and other supernatural creatures.

“I just realised. I don’t even know your name,” Bitty says.

“Oh. I’m Jack.”

“Well, Jack Zimmermann, I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I guess this is a little weird for nice,” Bitty says with a nervous laugh.

Jack waves him off. “It’s fine,” he says. “But maybe I can help you out.”

“Help me?”

“You know, move on and all,” Jack says. “I mean, I’m not very good at it, but I can try. And I have friends.”

“Uh, congrats?”

“I meant, friends who might be able to help too.”

“Well, I guess you’ve got yourself a deal, then, Jack,” Bitty says.

//

The next time Bitty shows, up, Jack’s in the shower. He’s only a little embarrassed to admit he screams when he sees the outline of a figure behind the shower curtain.

“Lord, I’m so sorry,” Bitty blurts out after Jack’s scream. Despite the fact he’s still a little indistinct, Jack can clearly see Bitty is trying not to look down.

“I - give me a minute,” Jack says and Bitty runs out of the room so fast he just phases right through the door. Jack stares after him for a minute, wondering how his life became so strange.

After he’s dressed, Jack goes back out to the living room, where he finds Bitty pacing.

“Uh, hey,” Jack says.

“Hi,” Bitty replies a little awkwardly, and even with his blurry outline, Jack can tell Bitty is trying to look Jack in the eye, but he’s struggling to maintain eye contact. “So, uh, how long has it been?”

Jack thinks on it for a minute. “Five days.”

“That’s not good,” Bitty says with a frustrated sigh.

“We’ll work it out,” Jack says. “You thought of anything else?”

Bitty shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“I could call Shitty over,” Jack says.

“What?” Bitty asks.

“My best friend,” Jack replies. “He hunts ghosts too.”

Bitty looks unconvinced.

“He’s in Cambridge, but he’ll definitely want to meet you,” Jack says. “Lardo too, if she’s around. She’s a witch.”

“Shitty the ghost hunter and Lardo the Witch? Lord, do any of your friends have normal names?” Bitty asks.

“They’re nicknames,” Jack says with a shrug. He’s not sure where either of them got their names - Shitty hasn’t ever told him the origin of the name, but apparently it was some college thing.

“Oh, well, I guess Bitty might be one too,” Bitty replies. “But I don’t know.”

“That’s what we’re going to work out,” Jack promises. “Then you’ll be able to leave.”

“I still don’t want to believe this,” Bitty says.

Jack frowns. “Do I need to find some other way to prove it to you?”

Bitty shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, I mean, I’m _dead_. Life over. All done. I’m not even thirty!” Bitty says.

“It sucks,” Jack says, unsure of what else to say here. He’s never actually had to comfort a ghost before.

“You’re still alive. You wouldn’t get it. I was supposed to do things, I think. I mean, I don’t remember what they were, but I would’ve had plans,” Bitty says.

“Well, maybe you’ll get another one?” Jack says, going for reassuring.

Bitty shakes his head. “That wouldn’t be the same,” he says with a sigh. “Can you call your friend? I think we should get this done now.”

“Of course,” Jack says and goes to call Shitty.

Naturally, Shitty is incredibly excited at the news.

“Thank fuck, bro. I was dying out here,” Shitty says when Jack relays his request. “You’ve saved a life.”

“How soon can you get here?”

“Zimmermann, I’m proud of you. I’ll be over in an hour. Less, if Lardo lets me speed.”

“You’re not going to be a dumbass,” he heard Lardo call out from the other end.

“I’ll see you soon,” Shitty adds before hanging up.

True to his word, Shitty’s there in about an hour, and he enthusiastically wraps himself around Jack the moment he opens the door.

Jack, you beautiful motherfucker. I’ve missed your face,” Shitty says as he grips Jack tightly. He smells strongly of weed and incense.

“Hey,” Lardo says as she strolls in, cool as ever.

“So, you’re Bitty,” Shitty says, turning to face the ghost.

“I am,” Bitty replies.

“Nice to meet you, brah,” Shitty says and holds out his hand for a fist bump. Bitty bumps it cautiously, as if he’s not quite sure how to deal with it. “You’re one blurry motherfucker.”

“I, um, what?” Bitty says.

“You’re pretty transparent, y’know? I can barely see you,” Shitty says. “Makes this whole thing a little trickier.”

“Shitty, be more fucking delicate,” Lardo adds.

“You’re, um, Lardo? The witch?” Bitty says.

“That’s me,” Lardo replies.

“So, uh, how do we do this?” Bitty says, glancing over at Jack.

“Google?” Lardo suggests.

“I thought you were a witch?” Bitty asks.

“Google’s always a good way to start. Why waste time on a spell when you can use the internet?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Bitty says. “Would anything turn up?”

Lardo starts typing into her phone. “We’ll see,” she says.

Bitty anxiously peers over her shoulder, but Jack watches his face drop as Lardo scrolls through the results. “There’s nothing,” Bitty says.

“Maybe there’s something more specific? You remember any social media?” Lardo says.

Bitty frowns. “I think so?”

“Maybe we can get something off that,” Lardo says, presumably looking through some sort of social media website. Jack doesn’t really claim to understand it - he’s barely even got a facebook account, let alone one of the hundreds of other things people seem to have these days. He just isn’t interested.

“Wait - hey go back,” Bitty says, pointing to the screen. “That looks familiar?”

“Twitter?”

Bitty frowns. “I used it a lot, I think.”

“See? We’re already getting somewhere, bro,” Shitty encourages. “We’ll figure this out in no time.”

“What about cooking? Maybe you, tweeted about that?” Jack says, recalling Bitty’s thing about the eggs in one of his earlier visits.

Bitty frowns, considering. “I think so?” he says.

Lardo types it in on her phone. “Any of these look familiar?” she says tilting the phone so Bitty can see the options.

“No,” Bitty says, clearly disappointed. “Nothing.”

“We’ll get there,” Shitty reassures him.

“But what if I disappear again? It took me five days to show up last time,” Bitty says sadly.

“Dude, we can totally fix that,” Shitty says. “Don’t know about your mad blur, but me and Lards have got this.”

Bitty looks at them warily. “How?”

“Magic!” Shitty says excitedly.

“Magic is actually real?” Bitty says and then looks over at Lardo. “Um. No offence.”

“None taken,” Lardo says with a shrug.

“Ghosts are real,” Shitty says. “Why not magic?”

“I don’t know about this,” Bitty says, and looks over to Jack. “Are you sure?”

“It should be possible,” Jack says. He doesn’t really get magic - that’s more Lardo’s thing, but he knows enough about the basics to know that it could very well help Bitty stay here a little while longer.

“I’ll get the stuff,” Lardo says. “Shits, you packed it, right?”

“Of course,” Shitty replies.

“Sweet,” Lardo says and goes off to get it, returning later with a bright purple bag with a black cat printed on it. She starts pulling out the candles. “Bitty, stay there. Shitty, let’s do the Spirit formation.”

Shitty gives a salute, and starts arranging the candles in a circle around Bitty.

“I thought a seance was for summoning a ghost,” Bitty says, looking warily at the candles Shitty’s placing around him - they’re all in different shapes and sizes, some more melted than others. “I’m already here.”

“This isn’t a seance.” Jack replies.

Bitty doesn’t look convinced, but he stands by and watches Lardo set it up with suspicious eyes. Eventually, the circle comes together and Lardo digs around in her pocket, pulling out a zippo lighter.

Jack’s seen Lardo cast spells hundreds of times before, but it never fails to fascinate him. Having no magical ability of his own, he’s always curious about other people’s. Everyone works differently, and for Lardo, candles are her preferred method. She lights the candles methodically, humming a melody under her breath as she goes.

Once she’s done, Lardo straightens up and stands at the head of the circle and inhales deeply, holding in the breath for a few seconds before letting it out all at once. All the candles are simultaneously blown out.

“Is that all?” Bitty asks. He sounds a little disappointed.

“That’s all,” Shitty says. “Magic can be chill like that.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Can you do anything about how blurry he is?” Jack asks.

Lardo shakes her head. “You might need to find a proper psychic for that. I can only make sure he stays around here. Oh, by the way, don’t try to leave the apartment.”

“Why?” Bitty asks.

“You’ll probably vanish again,” Lardo says. “You’re already tied to this place, but I’ve just made it a little stronger. You won’t just fade out. I mean, it should work, but we’ll know for real by tomorrow.”

“Okay then,” Bitty says.

//

The next day, Jack wakes up to find Bitty pacing around the kitchen.

“Jack! You’re awake,” he says. “I was getting bored.”

“You’re still here?” Jack says.

“The spell worked!” Bitty says excitedly. “I mean. It’s _magic_. It’s real.”

“It is pretty amazing,” Jack admits. “Any new information?”

Bitty shakes his head. “Nothing. What are you doing today?”

“I was going to try baking.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugs. “I came here to get rid of a ghost, and we can’t do much with that. You know anything about baking?”

“Bless your heart, Jack, of _course_ I know how to bake,” Bitty says, and then looks surprised at himself. “I mean, I think I do? I didn’t figure that out until now.”

“Maybe you can show me then, eh?” Jack says.

Bitty lights up at the prospect. “Of course.”

“Okay, where do we start?”

“First, you’re going to need to at least buy some proper equipment. You don’t even own a baking tray!” Bitty says.

“You know what’s in my cupboards?”

Bitty shrugs. “I got bored earlier,” he explains. “And I guess, there’s something about the kitchen that feels like home.”

“So, what do I need?” Jack asks, and before too long, he’s herded out the door with a full list of things he needs to buy. Bitty decides it best to start small, so they’re making some basic cookies.

Jack then quickly finds himself lost in a maze of baking pans and other kitchen items, most of which he has no idea of the purpose of. A chatty sales assistant named Carrie eventually takes pity on him and steers him around the store, picking out everything on Bitty’s list.

“First time doing this, huh?” she asks as they’re moving through an aisle full of brightly coloured utensils.

“Yeah, my, uh, roommate is teaching me how to cook properly,” Jack says, making up the story on the spot. It’s not like he can just tell anyone he’s learning all of this from a ghost.

“Oh, nice. You know, if you’re looking for more, there’s a great baking vlogger out there.”

Jack just nods, like he understands what any of that means.

“You should check out his videos. He hasn’t posted much in a while, but he taught me how to make the _best_ pie crust.”

“Would I need to download them?” Jack asks.

Carrie gives him a look. “No? They’re all on YouTube.”

“Oh,” Jack says.

“Channel’s called Check Please,” the girl says. “It’s seriously good.”

“I’ll check it out,” Jack promises, making a mental note to look it up later. Maybe Bitty knows something about it. He likes baking, and maybe if this vlogger is as popular as Carrie seems to think, there’s a chance Bitty might know it.

Once he gets back to the house, he finds Bitty pacing. He immediately brightens when Jack comes back.

“You managed to get everything okay?”

“The sales assistant was really helpful,” Jack says. “And she mentioned something called a vlogger?”

“That’s not a cooking utensil, you know?”

“She said there were some videos I should look up. Check Please? Do you know it?” Jack asks.

Bitty’s face does something weird at the mention of the name. “I… I think so?” he says. “It. I know it from somewhere. It’s important.”

“Maybe they helped you cook?”

Bitty pauses thoughtfully. “I think.”

“Want to check them out now?”

“It might help, but don’t think you’re getting out of making some cookies.”

Jack laughs, and goes to fetch his laptop from his bedroom. When he gets back out to the lounge room, he sits on the floor next to Bitty, and searches for the videos.

The first result is one about making the perfect pie crust, with the thumbnail being that of the most perfect pie Jack’s ever seen, but that’s not what makes him pause.

It’s the fifth video down in the search results - the face in the thumbnail is of a blond guy, and although the image is small, Jack clicks on it. The video starts playing, and the southern accent coming out of the speakers confirms it.

“It’s you,” Jack says, turning to Bitty, whose eyes are incredibly wide.

“I - I don’t remember this,” Bitty says, watching his past, living self chatter on about proper biscuit making methods.

“Well, we’ve found you,” Jack says.

“I don’t even know what to say. Thank you, Jack,” Bitty says, sounding a little choked up.

Jack pauses the video and scrolls down to the description.  “There’s some links here. A twitter, like you said.”

“Can we look at it?”

Jack clicks on the link labeled “twitter”, and when the page loads, the first thing Jack notices is that there’s a name printed under an icon of Bitty’s smiling face. It’s strange to see it in such sharp focus.

“Eric Bittle,” he says out loud. “Baker. Vlogger. Southern. Samwell University Class of 2013. Oh, I went there once.”

“That. That’s me,” Bitty - Eric? - says, sounding a little dazed. “I can’t believe it. Lord. You found me.”

“It’s nothing,” Jack says, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to bake.”

“I didn’t think it’d be anything like this!” Bitty exclaims.

Jack starts to read through the entries, scrolling through the timeline. He’s not quite sure how to make sense of it “You’re not that old.”

“I said I was twenty four!” Bitty exclaims.

“I thought you’d have been a ghost for longer,” Jack says.

“But what happened to me - scroll back up,” Bitty says, looking at the tweets. “I didn’t write that one - Jack. Look. That one.”

The tweet is from two days ago, and the text makes Jack frown:

Eric Bittle @omgcheckplease - July 2

Eric is doing fine. This is his mama - Suzanne. Your messages are lovely.

“I. I’m not dead?” Eric says a little hopefully.

“You’re a ghost,” Jack says.

“But. It’s from two days ago. Read the rest.”

Jack scrolls back down the feed, and the story starts to make sense. Two months before, there was a car accident - there aren’t any details, but apparently Bitty is supposed to be in a coma somewhere.

“It makes sense,” Jack says after a long moment. “That could be why you’re so blurry. You’re not quite dead.”

“But I could be?” Bitty says. He sounds worried.

“There might be something we can do,” Jack replies. “Lardo probably knows someone.”

“He’s not dead,” Jack says when Lardo picks up the phone.

“Wait _what_?” Lardo says, clearly taken aback.

“Bitty. He’s not dead,” Jack repeats. “We found his, um video blog?”

“Oh, wow. But he is still a ghost, Jack.”

“He’s in a coma. Not dead,” Jack elaborates.

“Well, that could explain some things,” Lardo says.

“What can we do?” Jack asks.

Lardo pauses thoughtfully. “I might know someone who can help.” She rattles off a number and Jack writes it down. “Call them.”

“I will,” Jack promises, looking over at Bitty’s face.

//

Jack’s met a lot of psychics and seers in his time, but even so, Ransom and Holster look nothing like any he’s met before. They look like pretty stereotypical jocks, with both the bulk and height to match. One is dark skinned and wearing salmon coloured shorts. The other is blond and pale, dressed in cargo pants, carrying a hockey bag with him.

“Ransom and Holster?” Jack asks, wondering which is which.

“That’s us, bro,” The blond one says. “Nice to meet you. You’re a Zimmermann?”

“I am,” Jack says.

“Sweet,” the blond one says. “I’m Holster. That’s Ransom. Where’s the ghost?”

“Over here,” Bitty says, coming into view.

“Wow. You’re a small dude,” Holster says.

“What’s your name?” Ransom asks.

“Bitty - Um, Eric Bittle.”

“Already got a nickname. Nice one, bro.”

Bitty shrugs. “I don’t know where it came from.”

Ransom gives him a look. “Interesting. Lardo says you remembered the nickname, but not your real name?”

Bitty nods. “It’s about the only thing I can remember.”

“Can you help him?” Jack asks.

Ransom and Holster share a wordless look, and Jack wonders what the two of them are thinking. Lardo said they were psychics, but she never specified exactly how.

“We’ll need to do a reading,” Holster says, and pulls a white candle out his hockey bag.

“No - the other ones. Not that set,” Ransom says and grabs the candle from Holster and shoves them back in the bag. “They’re cursed.”

“Oh - shit, I forgot about that.”

“You really need to sort your shit,” Ransom says with a shake of his head. He looks back over at Jack. “Long story.”

Holster pulls another candle out of the bag - this one’s bright blue and half melted.

“Good choice,” Ransom says with a nod of approval, and with another silent conversation, Holster sets the candle down and starts drawing a chalk pattern on the floor around Bitty.

“So, what are you doing?” Jack asks curiously.

Ransom shrugs. “Something we figured out in college. Our Haus was haunted.”

Holster finishes the last of the chalk drawings. “Let’s get this started,” he says and pockets the chalk before holding his hand out for Ransom. “Bitty, stay still and we’ll do a read.”

The two of them close their eyes. There’s a moment where nothing happens, but then a swift breeze blows through the apartment, carrying the faint scent of pie.

“Well, Lardo was right. You’re not dead, bro,” Ransom says, opening his eyes.

“You’re one powerful astral projector,” Holster says, sounding impressed.

“So I’m definitely not dead?” Bitty says, eyes widening.

“Well, no, bro,” Ransom says. “You’re probably just projecting from somewhere.”

“Why don’t I remember any of it then?” Bitty asks.

“Don’t know yet. Could be a number of things,” Holster adds. “You got any magical abilities?”

“What - no. I mean, I’d think I would know if I was magic,” Bitty replies. “Wouldn’t I?”

Holster shrugs. “These things usually stick to families, but sometimes you get lucky.”

“I wouldn’t call this luck.”

“Well, it could be worse, I mean, you’re not dead?” Holster says with a shrug.

“Can we fix that?” Bitty asks.

The two psychics exchange a look. “Probably. I mean, if you’re just projecting, it’s really a matter of getting you to stop.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Normally? Just wake up,” Ransom explains. “But your coma might complicate things. How long has it been?”

“Two months.”

“That’s quite a while,” Holster says thoughtfully. “But not unfixable. Any idea where your body is at?”

Bitty shakes his head. “No idea.”

“Damn. Well, we’ll have to look into it. Lardo probably has a spell that might help you get back.”

“Thank you,” Bitty says. “Y’all are too kind.”

“It’s no problem, besides, you seem like a chill dude,” Holster says.

“You’re probably the friendliest ghost we’ve ever met,” Ransom says. “Of course we like you.”

Bitty seems a little caught off-guard by that. “Well, you can’t have met _that_ many ghosts then.”

Ransom shakes his head. “We’ve seen plenty - none of them are as chill as you, Bits.”

“Well, we should get going, bro. Love to talk, Zimmermann, but we should go talk to Lardo. She’s the one with all the real magic”

“Psychics are magic too, bro,” Holster cuts in.

“Dude, we’re not starting that again. Besides, you know it’s just science?”

Holster rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Thank you guys,” Jack says. “How much do I owe you?”

Holster waves him off. “Nothing. This is so much better than money. Besides, You’re a Zimmermann. I feel like I owe _you_.”

Jack looks away. “I’m not my family.”

“But you’re still good. I heard about you and that Parson guy. You two were pretty unstoppable.”

Jack looks away.

“Oh. shit. Didn’t mean to bring that up,” Holster says. “But you were good bro. Still are.”

“Let me know if you find something,” Jack says.

“Of course,” Holster says, and with one last wave, he and Ransom are gone.

“Oh my goodness,” Bitty says once Ransom and Holster have left.

Jack smiles. “It’s good news,” he says, suddenly glad that Bitty isn’t actually a ghost. The idea just seems so weird now - someone like Bitty, so full of life, shouldn’t be _dead_.

“I can’t wait to be alive again,” Bitty says. “I mean, they can find something, right?”

“Of course. We’ll find it,” Jack promises, meaning it. He has no idea where to begin, but he knows he’s going to damn well try. As a hunter, he always wanted to help people, and this way, he gets to do that for real. It’s a better feeling than simply just killing monsters.

Bitty reaches out to lay a hand over Jack’s. Their skin doesn’t quite touch, but Jack can feel the cold on his skin. It should be a weird feeling, but instead it makes something in chest loosen and he feels light. Happy, even.

He almost doesn't want this to end. The feeling surprises him a little - normally, he’s always ready to move on as quickly as possible from one hunt to the next. Now, he wants to linger - to spend as much time around as Bitty as he can. They haven’t spent long together - barely even a couple of weeks now - but Jack has gotten so used to having this company he hopes the two of them would stay in touch later on.

 _I’ll make sure of it_ , he promises himself.

//

“So, I was thinking we get back to your baking lesson today?” Bitty asks as Jack walks into the kitchen in the morning.

“Sounds good,” Jack says. He’d been a little disappointed he’d never gotten to finish baking last time, but that’d been overshadowed by finally figuring out Bitty’s past.

“Now that we’ve actually got all of this, it’s a shame for it all to go to waste,” Bitty says. “Let’s start simple - cookies you can probably manage.”

“Okay,” Jack says. “What do I need to do?”

Baking with Bitty turns out to be an incredibly easy task - Jack’s never been particularly gifted in the kitchen, but Bitty _knows_ his way around everything, adding in little tips and tricks Jack would’ve never thought would be important. It’s a little weird with Bitty not being able to touch anything, but he gives enough sound advice that they manage. It’s actually pretty fun.

“Don’t forget to put the baking paper down!” Bitty tells him while Jack’s just about to scoop the dough onto the tray.

“Oh,” he says and fetches the roll, tearing off a section and placing it on the tray.

“Beginner’s mistake. How did you ever cook without me?”

“Hey, I can manage,” Jack says. He might not be a particularly inventive cook, but he does have some skills. Baking just hasn’t been one of them.

Bitty rolls his eyes. “Just do what I say, and you’ll be fine.”

Unsurprisingly, Bitty’s a good teacher. He’s calm and patient, always willing to repeat himself or do his best to show Jack exactly what he means as best as he can while not being able to touch the ingredients himself.

Normally, Jack’s seen cooking as a pretty perfunctory, boring necessity. It’s never been _fun_ before, but he finds himself laughing at Bitty’s jokes and even making a few of his own.

Once the cookies are in the oven, they decide to watch a documentary - a history one Jack’s been meaning to catch up on. They both end up sitting on the floor - Bitty because he physically can’t sit on the couch, and Jack because he feels a little weird about sitting all the way up there while Bitty can’t.

“I’m gay,” Bitty says a while into the documentary.

Jack blinks. “Oh, thanks for telling me,” Jack says, feeling a little lost as to what else to say. “Did you just remember that?”

Bitty shakes his head. “No, I’ve, um, known for a while? I don’t think this is something you just forget, even like this.”

Jack nods. “I’m glad you told me.”

“Well, I mean, I trust you, I guess? I don’t think it’s something I’ve told a lot of people? I think? You’re taking it pretty well for a straight - ”

“I’m bisexual,” Jack cuts in.

“Wait, really?” Bitty says, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Jack says with a shrug.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Bitty says. He seems a little taken aback.

“It’s no worry,” he says. Normally, he doesn’t talk about it much - it’s just not something he thinks about a lot, but something about Bitty makes him feel comfortable enough to share it.

“Do other people know?” Bitty asks.

Jack shrugs. “Shitty and Lardo do,” he says. “It doesn’t come up much.”

“I should tell you,” Jack says, “about why I even moved in here.”

“You wanted to get a ghost?” Bitty says with a frown.

“I told you I wasn’t very good at this when we first met. I used to be,” Jack explains. “I had a, um, friend. We used to hunt together.”

Bitty frowns. “Did something bad happen to them?”

Jack shakes his head. “Kent’s fine. He’s in Las Vegas now - apparently there’s a lot of ghosts out there.”

“Oh, wow,” Bitty says. “What happened, then?”

“We got too ambitious, I guess. There was this um, spirit,” Jack says, breaking off for a moment.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Bitty says.

Jack shakes his head. “No, I should. The story is just complicated.”

“Okay, so, what was this spirit?”

“It was a sort of poltergeist, I think. Kent thought we could take it - I wasn’t quite convinced at first, but he talked me into it. I’d just come off a possession, so I guess I should’ve known it would be dangerous for me.

“Things just went wrong after that. The poltergeist got the better of us, and well, we both got hurt. I thought that meant I shouldn’t hunt ghosts, but after a while Shitty talked me into it again. Then I found this place.”

“Well, no wonder you didn’t like me,” Bitty says. “I’m sorry about what happened. Do you still talk?”

Jack shakes his head. “Not often - I mean, Kent and I both owe each other a lot of apologies, but there’s just never been the time. I don’t think he’d pick up the phone these days.”

“You should try - if you still think it’s worth it,” Bitty says. “But, um, I mean, not if you don’t -”

“Bitty, it’s fine,” Jack says, cutting him off. “I should do that.”

Bitty smiles at him and opens his mouth to say something else, but Jack’s phone starts to ring, the shrill sound of the ringtone cutting through the silence.

“Yo,” Lardo says when Jack picks up. “We’ve got it.”

“Got what?” Jack says, confused.

“Ransom and Holster filled me in. And I’ve found something,” Lardo says excitedly. “Bitty can be human again.”

Jack looks over at Bitty. “Did you hear that?” he asks him.

Bitty nods, eyes wide.

“How soon can we do it?” Jack asks.

“A few days. There’s a few things we need to prepare, but we can make it happen,” Lardo says.

“Good,” Jack replies, unable to help his smile. He’s glad they’ve finally found it - Bitty doesn’t deserve to live in this half-dead state. He should be alive. “I’ll tell him that.”

“What? What is it?” Bitty asks.

“They can do it in a few days,” Jack says.

“Oh my goodness,” Bitty replies, sounding a little choked up. He places a hand over his mouth. Jack can’t quite see it, but he’s pretty sure there are tears in Bitty’s eyes.

“You’re finally going to be alive again,” Jack says.

He might not be able to see it well, but Bitty’s smile makes Jack smile in return.

//

//

“So, what do we do?” Jack asks when Lardo arrives at the door, Shitty, Ransom and Holster in tow.

“This,” Lardo says, holding out the book in her arms - it’s a dusty, old thing. The kind of book Jack knows is definitely brimming with power.

Bitty looks at it warily. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure,” Lardo says. “You’ll be back inside your own skin in no time.”

Bitty turns to Jack. “Jack I - um, I just wanted to say - um, thanks,” Bitty says.

“You’re welcome,” Jack says, throat feeling inexplicably tight.

“I guess this is um, goodbye?”

“It doesn’t have to be. We’ll see you when you wake up, eh?” Jack says, trying to lighten the mood.

Bitty laughs. “Oh yes, of course. I’ll find you. I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Jack promises.

“We should get started,” Lardo says, her eyes on Jack. He looks away, feeling a little weird at her scrutiny.

Ransom and Holster move around her, setting candles up as Shitty calls out directions - there seems to be a very specific order to everything they’re doing and Jack’s head spins a little trying to follow it. Lardo is at the centre of the circle they’re setting up, mixing a bunch of powders together in a clay bowl, whispering a chant softly.

“Okay, boys, place this around the candles. But before you do, Bitty get in the centre here. Where I am,” Lardo says and Bitty shoots Jack one last look before moving into the centre of the circle. “Ransom, after that, you’re on my left. Holster, to the right.”

“So, what now?” Bitty says, standing in the middle of the circle.

“Now, we really get started,” Lardo says and begins a steady chant in a tongue Jack isn’t sure is a human one, with Ransom and Holster joining in. The collective power of their voices makes the candle flames flicker. Bitty looks a little worried and Jack’s about to step in, but Shitty holds him back.

“She’s got this,” Shitty mouths and turns his attention back to the circle.

Lardo finishes off the chant, and for a moment, nothing happens, but then there’s a huge gust of wind blowing through the apartment and the candles are blown out. Bitty starts to smile, eyes on Jack, but then he starts to fade away, like smoke from the candles.

And then he’s gone. Jack feels an uncomfortable twist in his gut. Was that really enough time? He wants to see the results now. Bitty might have promised to find him again, but would he even remember? Jack wishes he’d made a different promise. He should’ve figured out some way to be there when Bitty wakes up, just so he could kiss-

 _Oh_ , Jack thinks, a little stunned at the realisation. _I like him_.

He suddenly feels like a fool for not seeing it sooner.

 _Next time_ , Jack thinks fiercely, determined not to waste any chances. He wasn’t sure when he’d get to see Bitty again, but as soon as the moment presented itself, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

//

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is how _heavy_ he feels, like someone’s just loaded a whole lot of extra weight on his chest. It’s sort of painful, and he tries to close his eyes again and fall asleep, but he hears someone speak first.

“Eric?” he hears a voice say. It’s feminine and familiar, but something about it is a little wrong. “Honey?”

Eric opens his eyes. “Mama?” he says, or at least tries to. There’s something in his throat. He gags around it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mother says, sounding wobbly and unfamiliar. She helps him remove the tube, like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“I...what happened?” he asks, taking in the white walls around him. Wasn’t he at home just before? The last thing he remembers was being at home.

“You...it’s been a while, honey,” his mama says in a soft tone of voice that he last heard when she was telling him his Great Aunt Holly had died. “You were in a coma.”

Eric frowns, confused. Comas didn’t just happen to people, and certainly not him. He’d think it was some kind of joke, but the look on his mama’s face tells him otherwise.

“I - I was?” he says.

His mama starts to cry. “Oh - oh my goodness, I should call a nurse,” she says and reaches over to press a button that’s beside Eric’s bed.

Moments later, a nurse rushes in. “I came as soon as I saw the monitors change,” she says, wide-eyed.

“I woke up,” Eric says.

After that, he’s caught up in a rush of tests - apparently he’s not supposed to be so healthy, let alone so mentally functional. The doctors have apparently been mystified this entire time - it’s like he was just sleeping. Eric wishes he could answer everyone’s questions, but he can’t remember anything - all he has is a lingering sense of urgency. Like there’s somewhere else he’s supposed to be right now.

The feeling is frustrating to say the least, but as more tests go by, he figures out what happened - apparently he’d just moved out of his old place and been hit by a car on the way to pick up the last of his things. Then the coma. But still, none of it explains exactly why he feels like this.

“Maybe you should come back home with us, honey,” his mama says once the doctors finally conceded there’s nothing they can figure out from him. But they do make him promise to come back for a checkup soon.

“I just want to get back to my life,” Eric replies. As much as he’d like to be around his parents in Georgia again, something in his gut twists uncomfortably at the thought of leaving Providence. He’s got a home here, and a life. And he’s already lost two months of time. There’s no sense in losing any more.

“Well, then I guess we’ll stay around here,” she says. “I’ll call Coach to update him. He’s on his way down.”

“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t make y’all just leave,” he says. He might not like all the fussing, but he won’t just send his parents back home. Besides, he wonders if they might have some answers about the last two months and why he’s feeling so lost.

//

“Hello?”

“Sorry for calling like this, but I was um, hoping to speak with Suzanne?”

“That’s me?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Bitty?”

“Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jack. Jack Zimmermann.”

“Dicky doesn’t have any friends named Jack.”

“I - we just met. I heard he’s awake?”

“I haven’t told anyone yet. He’s asleep. Who are you?”

“Like I said, a friend. Can I speak to him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can you at least tell him Jack called? And that he wants to talk about ghosts?”

“...”

//

“Honey, did you know a Jack?” his mama asks as she’s unstacking his kitchen boxes.

“Huh?” Eric looks up from the cutlery he was sorting. He’d forgotten how much he has.

“Jack Zimmermann. I got a call yesterday. You were asleep,” she explains. “He seemed to want to talk to you real bad.”

Eric frowns. Something about the name is weirdly familiar, but he can’t quite place it. “Did he leave a number?”

“I didn’t ask. He knew about your hospital stay,” she says, like that’s enough to make this mysterious Jack the bad guy.

“You were updating people on twitter about that. He could’ve been a fan,” Eric says. He’s by no means a big youtuber, but he’s certainly got a following. But he can’t quite imagine any of his fans would go to such extreme length to meet him.

“He said he was your friend.”

“Maybe he got the wrong number.”

“He called you Bitty,” his mama says. “I could call the police. He was going on about ghosts”

Eric pauses. “Ghosts?”

“Yes. It was a bit strange, so I hung up.”

His mama keeps talking, but Eric stops listening. He’s too busy remembering.

Jack.

How could he have forgotten?

He has a promise to keep.

“Dicky, are you okay?” His mama asks, and Eric snaps out of it.

“I - I’m fine,” Eric says, unsure of how he’s going to explain his most recent revelation. Despite all the weirdness

“Should I get Coach? We can go back to the hospital.”

“No - I just. Remembered I left something in my old apartment.”

“Oh. Coach can go and get it, if you want.”

“No - I should go. I need to talk to the landlord.”

“I’ll drive you over,” she says and puts down the mug she’s holding. Eric doesn’t argue - there’s no point. Besides, a lift will make this all go so much faster.

“Do you need me to come with you inside?” she asks when they get close.

“It’s fine - just a book I left. I meant to pick it up the last time I was there,” he lies. Eric feels a little bad about it, but he also _needs_ to see Jack and there’s no way he can just explain the truth. Even he doesn’t quite believe it - the memories feel like they should be a dream, but something about them feels _real_.

“Well, we’re here.”

Eric gets out of the car.

//

“You shouldn’t have called,” Lardo says.

“I had to try,” Jack replies. “Shitty already talked me out of showing up.”

“He was right. Bitty might not remember everything,” Lardo says.

“I still had to know,” Jack says, stomach twisting at the possibility of Bitty forgetting everything. Lardo had warned him about it, but that doesn’t make the idea any less pleasant. He doesn’t just want to forget about Bitty or the time they’d shared together.

He wonders wildly if showing up at Bitty’s apartment is too much.

“Jack,” Lardo says softly, as if she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “You need to leave it.”

“I can’t just forget him,” Jack says. He knows he’s probably being a little irrational, especially considering he and Bitty only knew each other for such a short time. It was barely even a month.

Lardo doesn’t say anything, just places a hand on his arm and they sit in silence.

//

Eric stands outside the apartment complex, heart hammering in his chest. He should’ve called. Would’ve, if he’d had Jack’s number.

 _Why didn’t I think of that before_ , he thinks, annoyed. He feels a little strange being back here in human form. Human form. He can barely believe any of it was real, but the memories are there all the same.

Nervously, he walks up to the buzzers and types in his apartment number, praying Jack is home.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end says, crackling through the speakers. It’s instantly familiar.

“Hey, Jack,” Eric says.

“Bitty?” Jack says. “I’m coming down.”

The speaker cuts out and Eric waits outside, scrolling through twitter on his phone. His notifications have gone wild since he woke up, to the point where he’s had to turn them off. Everyone just wants to know how he is. So, he sends out another tweet.

Eric Bittle @omgcheckplease - 2m

I’m doing well, y’all. Life has just been crazy!

Eric Bittle @omgcheckplease - 10s

@Scxrlette34 I’ll be back to videos soon!! It might be a while, but I want to start again.

“Bitty?”

Eric looks up from his phone, half composed tweets forgotten. Jack’s standing there, breathing heavily. “Jack,” Eric says, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“You’re here,” Jack says, moving in closer. He’s standing right in front of Eric now, almost touching. Eric thinks about all those times he’d wanted to touch Jack as a ghost, to reach out and feel his skin properly. And now he can.

“I am,” Eric says and pulls Jack in close, hugging him tightly. “Thanks to you.”

“I was worried,” Jack says into Eric’s hair. “I tried to call.”

Eric laughs. “That’s what made me remember,” he says. Eric’s suddenly glad that parking is so terrible around these streets and that he managed to convince his mama to drop him off first.

Jack somehow manages to tighten his grip on Eric. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Bits.”

“Nobody could work out why I was doing so well,” Eric replies.

“It’s probably thanks to Lardo.”

“I’ll have to thank her, then.”

Eric wonders if this a good time to say something. It sure _feels_ like a moment, but he’s not sure. So, he pulls away slightly, hands still resting on Jack’s arms. Jack seems to reflexively hold on tighter, but barely.

“Jack -” Eric begins, but is cut off by Jack moving back in. Eric feels his heart beat double time in his chest. He feels so alive in this moment that he wonders how he ever managed to think his ghostly self was a living state.

“Eric,” Jack says softly. “Bitty.”

And then Jack’s kissing him. At first, it’s barely even anything - just the soft press of lips against each other. But then when Eric doesn’t pull away, Jack starts to deepen the kiss, moving a hand to cup Eric’s face. Eric tightens his grip on Jack, determined to make the moment last as long as possible. Jack pulls away for a half a moment,  but Eric leans back in and continues the kiss.

Eventually, Eric pulls away, but presses his forehead against Jack’s. “Wow,” he says, absolutely breathless.

“I promised myself I’d do that as soon as I saw you again,” Jack says, sounding a little shaken too.

Eric, somehow, manages to blush even darker. “I’m glad you did. I wish I could’ve done it sooner.”

“I’m glad I met you.”

He feels himself warm even further at Jack’s blunt, open honesty. _This boy_ , Eric thinks.

“So, uh, will you go on a date with me?” Jack asks.

Eric blinks, a little thrown by the question at first. “Oh - yes, of course, honey,” Eric replies, the endearment just slipping out.

Jack smiles brightly, and leans in for another soft kiss. This one doesn’t linger, but Eric feels warm all over just the same.

“Thank you,” Jack says.

“Oh, this isn’t a bother at all. Lord, I’d love to date you,” Eric replies.

Jack gives him another soft, small kiss. “I’m glad,” he says, smiling brightly.

//

WELCOME TO GHOST SEEKERS

_Ghost Seekers is a community for people serious about the supernatural. Here, you’re welcomed to discuss all things ghost - sightings you’ve had, those of a friend, or anyone else you might know._

_Mod Note: This is for serious sightings only._

KNOWN GHOSTS IN PROVIDENCE (3,568 replies) by Hollow_Hedge (Mod)

Re: Known Ghosts in Providence

JackZ_1

Ghost in the apartment Kelley_3554 mentioned is gone. It’s been a while, but I figured I should update everyone.

>Onyx_Soul34

Was it dangerous JackZ_1?

>>JackZ_1

No. It wasn’t actually a real ghost after all. I’ll explain in another post.

//

“Are you sure you want to post that?” Bitty asks, peering over Jack’s shoulder.

“Do you think it’s too confusing?” Jack asks.

“No - Lord, I meant if you thought it was a little too crazy, sweetheart,” Bitty replies.

“It might be for some people, but if someone can relate? I think it might help,” Jack explains. “If you want me to, that is.”

“Of course,” Bitty replies. “I might not understand all of this ghost business, but you do.”

Bitty smiles. “My boyfriend, always the hero,” he says and presses a kiss to Jack’s cheek. “I’ll go get dinner ready.”

“Do you need me to help?”

Bitty shakes his head. “It’ll be fine, besides, I still remember the eggs.”

Jack laughs. “Are you ever going to let me forget that?”

Bitty shakes his head. “Never.”

Before letting him go, Jack pulls Bitty close and gives him a small, soft kiss. “I guess I’ll just have to let you cook them from now on.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “You make it sound like a hardship. Now, I’m gonna go finish dinner.”

Jack watches him disappear back into the kitchen, unable to wipe the smile off his face. This month of dating Bitty has probably been one of the best of his life - sure there were some awkward moments when they had to explain things to Bitty’s parents (which resulted in a few omitted truths about ghosts), but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Dinner’s ready,” Bitty calls from the kitchen.

Jack hits post.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ agentalien


End file.
